


drunk girls know that love is an astronaut

by threeturn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn/pseuds/threeturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall gets handsy on Girls’ Night Out. Always a girl!genderswap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drunk girls know that love is an astronaut

**Author's Note:**

> Written for estrella30's prompt at the Girl Direction Fic Fest on Livejournal.

“I wanna show you something,” says Niall, eyes all wide and sincere with alcohol, and Zayn groans inwardly and says, “Go ahead."

“It’s,” says Niall, and loses her train of thought. She takes off her baseball cap as if the answer might be hidden in there somewhere. She’d put it on so they wouldn’t be recognized, and then insisted on wearing it all night once Zayn started mocking her for it. Now there’s a brief glimpse of blond pixie cut before she jams it on again sideways and leans back.

“You know I’ve seen the tweets from Bieber already,” Zayn says. Unlike Niall, Zayn’s still upright. They’re at a corner table, hiding out on the tatty red-upholstered couch jammed along the wall.

Niall looks offended. “That wasn’t it, Zayn. Stop interrupting me. Always talking, you."

Zayn snorts at this and Niall grins back, puts a finger to her lips. Hours ago, giggling at having dodged security and the fans both, they’d put each other’s lipstick on, pressed up close to each other in the cab. This many hours and drinks and chips later though, Niall’s lost the extra color Zayn had penciled in and she’s back to her natural pink.

Zayn drags her eyes away when she realizes she’s staring at Niall’s mouth. She checks her packet to see how many fags she’s got left—only two, so they’ll have to stop off for more before they head back to the hotel.

“Two is plenty,” Niall says, watching her think it through.

It’s that stage of the evening when even cigarette planning is a complex task. “I need at least three. One for when we leave the club. One for when we’re back at the hotel and the boys pile in and won’t let us go to sleep. And one for just before bed."

“Skip the middle one,” says Niall. She’s sprawled out on the couch, having kicked off her sandals off a drink or so ago. “Liam should be distracting enough.”

Zayn rolls her eyes. She’s tired of Niall needling her about Liam. “It was one time with him,” she says. “What do you care whether I smoke, anyway?”

“Can’t have you losing your health, can we?” Niall says. “Don’t wanna be the only girl in the band." She wiggles her toes against Zayn’s thigh, her nail-polish bright green against Zayn’s black skirt. “Was he any good?”

“Why?” asks Zayn, feeling irritated. “You interested?"

“Nope,” says Niall. “I fancy someone else.”

Zayn refuses to give her the satisfaction of asking who. Not that she wants to know, anyway. She's used to it by now, the way Niall makes her feel. She can zip Niall up the back and help her with her hair without doing or saying anything embarrassing, but that doesn’t mean she needs details about Niall’s latest drummer or rapper or American president. “You said you had something to show me,” Zayn says instead.

“Yeah,” says Niall, and rolls off the couch onto the sticky pub floor.

Zayn says, “For fuck’s sake, Niall." She ducks her head under the table to find her and promptly smacks her forehead against Niall’s.

“Ow!” says Niall. She’s lost her hat and her hair is sticking up all over.

“I was going to say, I’m taking you home before you hurt yourself, but barn fucking door, Niall, jesus.”

“Well, it wasn’t meant to go like that,” says Niall. “I might be a little bit pissed.”

“You think?" Zayn smooths out her skirt.

“Maybe,” says Niall. “Let me try it again, anyway." But she seems to be under the impression that groping Zayn’s legs will help her get her balance first.

“Try _what_ again?" Zayn pushes the table away and yanks Niall up. “You’re lucky we’re in this hole in the wall and no one papped that."

“ _Fine_ ,” says Niall. She crosses her arms sulkily over her white vest while Zayn gets her wallet out of her handbag and counts out for the tab.

“Your sandals,” Zayn reminds her when Niall doesn’t move.

Niall looks at Zayn consideringly. “I really am well pissed. I ought to be taken straight back to the hotel and bed and tucked in and I ought not be bothered by boys banging on the door when I get there.”

Zayn sighs and scoops up the sandals herself. “C’mere." Niall stretches out a foot and Zayn catches it, shoving on her slingback a little clumsily. She’s had a few drinks herself.

Niall says “oh,” and Zayn looks up. Niall looks a little flushed and unsteady, but she extends her other foot cooperatively. Zayn raises her eyebrows and puts the other sandal on.

“Come on, you,” says Zayn. “And don’t ever brag you can drink me under the table again." Niall scrambles up and Zayn slings an arm around her waist, letting her lean.

“You’ll be the one all bleary for the photoshoot tomorrow, though,” Niall insists. “I’ll be fine, you’ll see." She only trips once as they push past people on their way out.

Zayn shrugs into the hoodie she borrowed from Louis and they lean against the side of the building while she has her cigarette. Niall looks unfocused and content, watching Zayn blow smoke. Then she tips the brim of her stupid cap down and they walk to a high street where they can get a cab.

Niall snuggles into Zayn’s side in the back seat, sliding her arm across Zayn’s torso, hand just brushing against the underside of her breast. Zayn pats her and firmly resituates her hand an inch or so lower. But Niall slides her hand up again, rubs slow, small circles right where Zayn can feel it, hoodie or no hoodie.

“Niall…” Zayn starts, not sure what to say. Niall gets handsy when she’s pissed, that’s nothing new.

“Just keeping you awake, ’kay Zayn?” Niall mumbles.

“Oh, please,” says Zayn, “like I’m the one with my eyes closed.”

“Cause um, I’m trying to figure out which bra you’re wearing,” says Niall. “I can concentrate better if I’m not looking.”

“Black one with the lacy bits and the racerback straps,” says Zayn, and puts Niall’s hand back in her own lap.

“You’re no fun,” complains Niall, burying her face in Zayn’s long hair instead. Zayn lets her, for the three more blocks it takes to get to the hotel, but she does have to remove Niall’s hand from her arse rather firmly for the trek across the hotel lobby. She holds Niall’s hand in hers instead and Niall says “Mmmm,” accepts this happily, and Zayn thinks how lucky it is that Niall’s Niall and they can get on so well. And also how _un_ lucky it is that Niall’s Niall, brash and pretty like Zayn can’t believe, hip bumping against hers all the way up to their rooms.

When they get to Niall’s door, she looks confused and says, “I might’ve forgotten my keycard, Zayn.” She frowns when Zayn fishes it out of Niall’s back pocket and holds it up with a flourish. “Could’ve crashed at yours,” Niall says, but she pushes into the room when Zayn swipes for her. Then she stops and waits just inside the doorway.

Zayn leans in for a hug and then turns to go, but Niall makes a face. “You promised to tuck me in,” she says.

“I did not,” says Zayn, but then there are thumps and shouting from down the hall and Niall reaches out quicker than she’s moved all evening, pulls Zayn in and shuts the door behind her.

“I don’t want them tonight,” Niall says, looking up at her with pleading blue eyes. “Do you mind?" She yanks off her cap and fluffs her hair in the mirror, kicks off her sandals and falls heavily back on the bed.

“Well—” says Zayn, and that’s when the boys reach the door and start banging.

“Open _up_ , you two,” calls Louis. “We missed you terribly. Harry cried. Liam mourned in a manly way."

“We don’t like Girls’ Night Out,” Harry agrees. “It’s divisive.”

Niall grins at Zayn, shakes her head. “Jealousy’s not a good look, lads.”

“How do you know how it looks?” asks Liam. “You can’t see us.”

“Exactly,” says Louis. “Open the door, Niall, we’ll order snacks. I’ve got the latest issue of _Hello!_ for Zayn.”

“I don’t read _Hello!_ ” says Zayn, insulted.

“You do this one,” says Louis serenely. “It’s got Little Mix on the cover."

“Oh my god stop it with Little Mix already!” yells Zayn. Now she’s definitely not opening the door.

They hear Harry’s voice next. “Look, ladies, let’s make a deal. You let us come in, Louis and I’ll make out in front of you. Every girl’s dream, am I right?”

“Piss off, you slags!” hollers Niall. “We’re busy!" She throws a pillow in the general direction of the door. It falls a couple of yards short. Zayn scoops it and throws it back at her. Niall lunges for Zayn and succeeds in yanking her forward onto the bed.

“Doing what?” Liam wants to know.

“Exception for you, Liam,” says Niall, ignoring the question, “you can come in if you’ll wank for us with your kit off. Now there’s something I haven’t seen yet." She tugs Zayn’s hoodie off her shoulders, in a way she probably imagines is helpful.

There’s a squawk and then another thump from outside the door, as if someone had just knocked someone else over.

“You _do_ like him then?” whispers Zayn. She sucks in her breath as Niall leans over her to toss the hoodie on the floor.

“No, you idiot,” Niall says in her ear, “I’m trying to scare them away, is all.”

“Oi!” yells Harry through the door. “Stop making a mess on Liam’s innocence, you lot.”

“Too late!” calls Niall, winking at Zayn and popping the top button of her jeans.

“It was _one time_ ,” Zayn hisses back, trying not to stare. She’s seen Niall undress tons of times before, and there’s no earthly reason for tonight to be any different.

“Liam declines,” Louis reports. “Are you seriously going to ignore us all night? Because that’s your choice, but there might have to be grief counseling in our future.”

“Good _night_ , lads,” says Niall. They wait for the pathetic chorus of disbelieving goodnights from outside the door, and then Zayn cracks up right along with Niall until she remembers something.

“Fuck, my fags,” she says, and starts rummaging in her handbag as if maybe more will appear by magic. “We were supposed to stop for a new packet. I’ll have to go down to the lobby.”

“Nope,” says Niall, who’s now stripped to bra and knickers. “Can’t leave or the boys will ambush you and you’ll never get your beauty sleep."

Zayn has to admit she has a point. Defeated, she leans over to pull off her heels. “If I sleep over, Niall, you’re the one’ll be getting me a packet in the morning. I’ve already gotten you here uninjured, I’ve done enough.”

There’s a sudden weight draped across her back, a breath on her neck. “You’re a liar, Zayn,” says Niall, “you haven’t done anything." She runs her hands down Zayn’s arms and Zayn shivers. “But it’s okay,” says Niall, “I’ll do it all." She kisses Zayn then, just behind her ear, slides a hand onto one breast, squeezes a little. Zayn feels hot all over, knows she’s getting wet for this, knows it’s going too far. This night’s done something to her—Niall not letting the boys tag along, Niall all over her in the pub and the cab, too close and not enough. Zayn reaches back, finds the nape of Niall’s neck, touches sticky skin and wisps of hair.

“You don’t—” Zayn starts. “Look, you’ve just had a drink too many, Niall, you don’t want to go breaking my heart." She means to say it lightly, but that’s not how it sounds.

Niall tugs at Zayn’s shoulder, turns her around. “Zayn, fuck, how hard are you gonna make me work for this?”

Zayn looks away from Niall, lets her hair veil her face. “So I don’t want to be second choice for you, that’s all,” she says.

“As if you could,” says Niall. “Haven’t you noticed one damn thing I’ve said to you this whole night?”

Zayn feels something like happiness bursting up through her. “I thought—” she starts.

“You should keep that to a minimum,” Niall tells her. “Look, I’m going to break it down for you, Zayn, because you’re not very bright tonight. I like you, right, I have for a while, so I want to be touching you. I have ideas."

Niall’s running a hand through her hair, eyes shining. Zayn looks at the dusting of freckles on the tops of Niall’s breasts, the curve of her stomach. She puts a hand to her own blouse, starts unbuttoning.

“Niall,” she says, “what did you want to show me?”

“This,” Niall says simply. She leans forward to kiss Zayn, gentle first, just tasting, then harder, using her tongue. Her hands go into Zayn’s hair.

“Stop,” says Zayn, and tries to follow her own instructions, because somehow she’s already working at the hooks to Niall’s bra.

Niall pulls back in frustrated obedience. “Look, Zayn, whatever you’re thinking, it’s fine, you’re not taking advantage of me. And um, it’s kinda possible I’m not actually as pissed as you think?”

“Either way,” says Zayn. “It’s kinda possible I don’t mind taking advantage anymore.” She reaches over to her bag, digs out her one last precious cigarette, and puts it down carefully on the bedside table, next to her lighter. “I just wanted to get that ready,” she says, turning back to Niall. “For afterwards.”


End file.
